


Family Traditions

by plutonianshores



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Breeding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Forced Inbreeding, Hints of Parent-Child Incest, Mild Pregnancy, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 03:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15258420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/pseuds/plutonianshores
Summary: The funeral home has been in the Funn family for generations. It wouldn't do to pollute the family line by marrying outside of it, so the Funns make do. And it's time for Antigone and Rudyard to be inducted into the family tradition.





	Family Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radioqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioqueen/gifts).



Antigone had expected another funeral lesson when her father had dragged her and Rudyard out of bed. He’d become increasingly frantic in the months since their mother had died, drilling them at all hours on embalming and burial. When he led them into the living room, it seemed more of the same.

When he told Antigone to take her nightgown off, she thought she’d misheard him.

“Excuse me?”

“Take your clothes off,” her father said again. “It’s time you learned about the Funn family line, and the clothes will only get in the way. You too, Rudyard.”

Rudyard obeyed unquestioningly, still more bleary from sleep than Antigone. After a moment of hesitation, Antigone stripped out of her pyjamas as well.

“We’ve kept the business in the family for centuries,” their father said.

“Yes, you’ve only told us a thousand times,” Rudyard snapped, finally shaking off his tiredness. Antigone said nothing, having a sickening sense of where this was all going and hoping fervently that she was wrong.

Their father glared at Rudyard, the shadows cast by the lamp he’d left on making him seem like a harsh copy of the loving father Antigone knew. “It seems like only yesterday that our parents took your mother and I to the mortuary to tell us what was expected of us. I’d hoped to give you both a bit more time, but after your mother’s death, I can’t risk letting the family die with you.”

“I still don’t see why we have to be naked,” Rudyard grumbled. “It’s cold.”

“Don’t you see?” Antigone whispered, glancing nervously at her father. “We keep the business _in the family_. And we’re the next in line.”

“Very good!” Their father smiled at her, teeth glinting predatory in the light. “Your mother was twenty when she had you. We’d been trying for a year at that point, it couldn’t have come soon enough, but looking back it seems so young...I do wish I could have given you both more time. But such is life. Rudyard, you’ll be taking the lead on this—get ready to get your sister pregnant.”

Rudyard looked between Antigone and their father, aghast. “But...sex...and with _her_...and with _you_ watching...”

“I know it might not fit with your romantic sensibilities,” their father said, sneering a bit at the last words, “but it’s simply the way things are done. The sooner you get on with it, the sooner we can all go back to bed.”

Rudyard stood stock-still with his cock in hand, staring at Antigone with his lip trembling. “I can’t.”

“Come now, son! Your sister is a beautiful woman.” He wrapped his hand around Antigone’s breast, making her shiver. “Any man would be lucky to have her. Look at her chest—so full, just like her mother’s. They’ll be perfect for nursing.”

Rudyard looked, if possible, even less interested in intercourse than before.

Their father sighed. “Antigone, I suppose it’s up to you then. Get your brother ready.”

Now it was Antigone’s turn to gawp at her father. “I don’t think I can.”

“You’re a bright girl, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Antigone thought of the daydreams she’d indulged, and the naughty books she’d snuck out of the library when no one was watching. Then she mouthed an apology at Rudyard and got down on her knees.

The wood floor was cold against her skin, and Rudyard’s legs shook like leaves under her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and took him in her mouth.

He was soft, even when she sucked on him. Sex was harder than her books had led her to believe.

“I don’t like this,” Rudyard whimpered.

“Be a man about it!” their father snapped. “It took months for your mother to agree to anything like this.”

Antigone pulled off of him and whispered, “Please, Rudyard, just go along with it.”

Rudyard shut his eyes and set his chin. “Get on with it, then.”

Antigone did her damndest to do just that, but neither Rudyard’s member nor her own mouth would cooperate. She worked at him until her jaw ached before he showed any sign of rising to the occasion, and when he finally began to stiffen, he let out a pained gasp and began to cry.

Antigone wished she could comfort him, but now that she’d finally had some success, it seemed foolish to stop (and with the way their father was looking at them, he might have throttled her for having the audacity to do so). Instead, she redoubled her efforts, taking a guilty pleasure in feeling Rudyard rise to fill her mouth.

The pleasure only lasted until he grew hard enough to nudge at the back of her throat. Antigone gagged and tried to back off so she could breathe, only for her father to force her head forwards.

“You’ll have to learn how to do this eventually,” he said, voice almost apologetic. “I know it’s rather unpleasant now, but work through it!”

She didn’t try to release Rudyard after that. Every time she gagged, he shuddered and grew just a bit harder. She tried to breathe through her nose, but the taste of musk and salt on her tongue and the prodding at the back of her throat grew more overwhelming by the minute.

Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly bear any more, Rudyard tugged at her hair and cried out, “Stop, please! I’m going to...”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish his statement, but both Antigone and her father knew what he was getting at. Their father tugged Antigone backwards by her hair, making her teeth catch on Rudyard’s member. Rudyard howled.

“Don’t be a baby.” Their father guided Antigone backwards onto the floor, nudging at her knees to prompt her to spread them. “Go on, then. I’m sure you can figure this out.”

This would be easier, Antigone thought. She’d just have to lie back and let Rudyard take the lead. She hadn’t counted on the pain. Rudyard stabbed at her artlessly, and even though he was slick with her spit, it wasn’t enough to ease his way. This was nothing like the passion in her novels. Antigone hadn’t expected it to be exactly like the books, but none of them had mentioned feeling like she was being torn open. With every thrust, she had to choke back a scream. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the overwhelming sensations.

Antigone flinched away from a touch to her face before she realized what it was—Rudyard had reached up a hand to wipe away her tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely moving his lips so that their father didn’t see.

“I know,” Antigone replied, just as quietly.

Once he was properly inside of her, the pain began to recede. Antigone stared at the ceiling, hoping that Rudyard would manage to finish soon. At least he hadn’t gone soft again.

After an eternity of thrusting and avoiding eye contact, Rudyard let out a quiet gasp and pulled out of her.

“Wonderful!” their father said. “We’ll try again tomorrow night.”

Rudyard went pale. “Again?”

“We have to make sure we get your sister properly pregnant! Just once won’t do. It took your mother and I three months before we managed you.”

Antigone shivered as she slipped her nightgown back on, refusing to think about what tomorrow night would bring.

 

Rudyard slipped into her room after their father had fallen asleep.

“What do we do?” he asked, voice low.

We do as he says,” Antigone answered. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Rudyard shuddered. “Well, we can’t leave.”

Antigone nodded. There was nowhere on the island that their father couldn’t find them. Better to just do as he said.

They fell asleep together, and when Antigone woke up hyperventilating, Rudyard held her. In the nights to follow, she’d return the favor.

 

By the time Antigone began to show, their father had died. She and Rudyard were the only ones to attend the funeral, and after the last shovelful of dirt was thrown over his coffin, Antigone retreated to the mortuary. She couldn’t shake the feeling that wherever she went in the house, her father would be just around the corner, and she besides that, she couldn’t bear the thought of Rudyard looking at her growing waistline.

 

When her daughter was born, Antigone snuck her out of the house in the dead of night, and left her bundled up on the doorstep of the hospital with a note pinned to her blankets: _My name is Calliope_. There was never a question of keeping her, nor of telling Rudyard; Antigone had resolved that the curse of the Funns would die with her. Then she returned—straight downstairs to the mortuary, which now felt more like home than her bedroom had. Perhaps someday she’d want to venture back upstairs, but for now, she felt much safer here, where she didn’t have to see her brother and remember the pain on his face. The memory of her father couldn’t touch her down here, in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks (or maybe blame) to radioqueen for hooking me on the headcanon that Calliope is Antigone's secret bio-daughter, and for giving me an excuse to write some dark Funn backstory.


End file.
